The Sunshine Sisters

by Jane Green

  “She was dramatic and grand and demanding and exacting, and she could be loving, warm, and fun, the most exciting mother in the world. And I do think she loved me. Now, I think she loved me, although I wasn’t always sure . . .” She trails off, wiping the tears, looking at Meredith.

  “I remember all of that. And I remember feeling totally inadequate. I could never be as beautiful, as glamorous, as exciting, or as thin”—Meredith shrugs—“as her. Remember all those crazy diets she would do?” Her sisters nod, Nell laughing through her tears. “And she would always come to my bedroom and knock on my door and say she wanted me to do it with her because I was her special daughter and she needed us to be a team, but I knew she was only asking me because I was fat.” Lizzy bursts out laughing. “I did feel special doing it with her, even though I cheated every day. She always wondered why I didn’t lose weight, and I never told her it was because I had Twinkies and Ho Hos for lunch every day. I so wanted to please her. Whether it was by what I looked like or the choices I made. And then I realized I would never be able to, so I moved far away, where I wouldn’t have to see the daily disappointment in her eyes.” She looks at her sisters. “Maybe I was wrong. I never thought she loved and accepted me as I was, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone.”

  “You did the right thing for you at the time,” says Lizzy. “I think I got the best version of her. I know I’m the baby, and I was totally spoiled, and because I knew I could get away with everything, she worked a little harder with me, I think. She loved showing me off. She would take me to her movie sets, where I’d charm the pants off everyone and be given amazing gifts all day.”

  “I remember those gifts,” says Nell. “I remember you always coming home with gifts.”

  “There was one time she was away and I threw a party and basically trashed the house.”

  “I remember that,” says Meredith. “I came home and found you.”

  “And remember her precious white shag carpet in the living room that was covered in red wine stains and cigarette burns? She said she had been wanting to replace it for months. Even though it was only six months old.”

  “You got away with murder,” says Meredith. “Always.”

  “I know,” says Lizzy. “I was the only one who wasn’t scared. Remember when she had the veil on and she’d start screaming at all of us? I would just laugh, but you were so terrified, Meri.”

  “I would hide in my room shaking like a leaf,” remembers Meredith.

  “I would leave the house,” Nell says, with a shrug. “I just removed myself from her rages.”

  “God, she was difficult,” says Meredith. “Except for you, Lizzy.”

  “That’s because I was her favorite,” Lizzy says.

  “Actually . . .” Meredith remembers sitting on her mother’s bed, feeling, perhaps for the first time in her life, the warmth of her mother’s unconditional love. “I think I was.”

  “No. She said it was me,” Nell says. “She said . . .”

  The others smile as it dawns on them too, as they say it as one: “Don’t tell your sisters.”

  “I love you, Mom,” whispers Nell, kissing her mother on the forehead and both cheeks.

  “I love you, Mom,” says Lizzy, holding her mother’s hand, bringing it up to her cheek and cradling it there before kissing it and laying it back down.

  “I love you, Mom,” says Meredith, wiping the tears and laying her head briefly on her mother’s chest, before kissing her forehead and standing back, taking her sisters’ hands as all three of them come together, their arms around one another, and they start to cry.

  forty-seven

  The coroner has gone, the men with him appropriately muted and respectful as they paid their condolences and carried the body outside and to the mortuary.

  Lizzy sees them out and shuts the door behind them, leaning back against it as she lets out a big whoosh of air.

  “Fuck,” she says, shaking her head. “I can’t believe it. She’s dead, and the last fucking thing she said to me was that I was her biggest mistake.”

  Meredith moves over to her and lays a hand on her arm. She knows Lizzy is upset and that, much like their mother, Lizzy has never been able to express sadness, fear, or pain with anything other than anger. “She didn’t mean it,” says Meri. “You know she didn’t mean it. She loved you so much.”

  “Turns out she fucking didn’t,” snaps Lizzy.

  “That’s not what she said.” Nell walks into the hallway. “She said she had regrets about spoiling you. And come on, Lizzy. You were spoiled.”

  “Maybe I was,” Lizzy says, “but I never had any of her. Did you ever stop to think that maybe indulging me was in place of any actual attention? Because let’s face it, by the time I was born, her career was in full swing and she was basically never, ever there. So yeah, I got away with stuff, but only because she was an absent mother. You both got her. She was there for you in a way she never was with me.”

  “You think she was better with us?” Nell’s voice rises with indignation. “She wasn’t this perfect mother who suddenly turned into a bitch when you were born. She was always hell. And I have no idea where you get this idea that she was present for me in any way, but it’s laughable.”

  “She wasn’t there for us either,” says Meredith. “Maybe she was physically at home more, but the only memories I have are of having to tiptoe around on eggshells, always.”

  “You’ve spent your whole life tiptoeing on eggshells,” says Lizzy, shaking her head.

  “What is that supposed to mean? Jesus, Lizzy. I’m trying to support you, and showing sympathy, and you have to come out with some barbed comment? What’s the matter with you?”

  Lizzy whirls on her. “This is what’s the matter with me. Our mother just died, and you and Nell both had these amazing kumbaya moments with her where she apologized for everything, and the two of you forgave her, and the last thing she said to me was that she had failed me as a parent, and that I was selfish and spoiled and treated people like shit. And I will never, ever get the chance to heal that, or make it different, and that will always be the last thing I remember about her. I will never have the chance to prove her wrong.” As she speaks, her voice rises and, entirely uncharacteristically, cracks. Out of nowhere, Lizzy is sobbing like a child, her shoulders heaving as sob after sob comes bursting out of her mouth.

  Meredith rushes over and throws her arms around Lizzy, unsure as to whether or not she will be pushed away. But Lizzy collapses into Meredith, allows herself to be held and comforted and loved, as tears fall down both their cheeks.

  Nell waits, watching. “It wasn’t a big kumbaya moment,” she says when the sobs have started to subside. “She did apologize, but I didn’t forgive her, exactly. I just realized there’s no point in still holding it against her. She did the best she could.”

  “She was a shitty mother to all of us,” says Meredith, gently. “But I feel the same way as Nell. I’m tired of my constant sadness and disappointment that she wasn’t better, or different. She was who she was. And even her saying what she said to you was kind of perfect, because it was so her: selfish. She never thought about anyone other than herself. It’s like she didn’t know how. But she was the only mother we had. And I did love her anyway.”

  Lizzy nods silently.

  “And she did have some good points,” points out Nell. “When she was good, she could be huge fun.”

  “She was very good at buying gifts,” says Meri, and Lizzy and Nell both nod with the memory of all the gifts over all the years.

  “It’s weird, isn’t it?” says Nell. “For all her crazy narcissism and self-absorption, she was a really thoughtful gift buyer. She always bought the exact thing you didn’t know you wanted, but fell completely in love with.”

  “God, that’s so true,” says Meredith. “Maybe we have all been too hard on her. You can’t
do that unless you are thoughtful, surely? She never bought the obvious; she bought the thing you’d mentioned you loved six months earlier, in passing. How did she do that?”

  “So she was good at gifts. If she actually was thoughtful,” says Lizzy, “she wouldn’t have made the last conversation with me about me being a disaster.”

  “She probably didn’t know that was going to be your last proper conversation. And that’s not what she said,” Nell points out, gently. “Right? Didn’t she say you were spoiled and selfish? Maybe you are a little bit selfish. Maybe this is a wake-up call to do things differently. I don’t know. Maybe she said what she said out of love for you, because she didn’t want to see you make any more mistakes like the ones she had made.”

  Lizzy sighs and is quiet for a few moments. Then she says, “Normally this is when I’d be storming out. But . . .” She shakes her head. “This is it.” She looks at each of her sisters. “Given that our deadbeat dad doesn’t count, we only have each other. There isn’t anyone else who’s ever going to call us on our shit again.”

  “James might call you on your shit,” says Meredith.

  “Nah. He wouldn’t dare.” The ghost of a smile plays upon Lizzy’s lips. “I can’t believe she’s gone.” She holds her arms out to her sisters. “It feels totally surreal. Can we please never lose touch or fall out with each other again? Even if the truth hurts, can we please always fucking tell each other the truth? At least that way we’ll be keeping Mom alive.” She gives them a sad smile and keeps her arms out for her sisters to step in.

  And they do. The three girls stand in the hallway, arms wrapped around each other, their foreheads touching as they breathe deeply, before looking into each other’s eyes and nodding silently.

  “Shall we go back to the farm?” Nell says eventually. “This house is beginning to feel like a morgue.”

  • • •

  Greta places a tray filled with mugs of steaming tea on the table.

  “We need milk and sugar,” says Lizzy, getting up and going to the fridge.

  “It’s an English thing,” says James, who accompanied them back to the farm. “What is it your mom used to call it? Builder’s tea?”

  Nell smiles at the memory. “Yes. Hot, sweet, and milky. It’s the ultimate cure-all.”

  “I’m starving,” says Meredith. “Do you have anything to eat?”

  Greta disappears into the pantry, coming back with a plate of brownies, which everyone reaches for as soon as they hit the table.

  “Big emotion always makes me want to eat,” says Lizzy, taking the smallest of brownies for herself and another for Connor, who is sitting in the corner of the kitchen playing with Lego bricks from James’s bag. “Christ. I can’t believe she’s dead. I keep going in and out, thinking about other stuff then circling back, always, to my mom is dead.” She shakes her head with a sigh, taking a bite of brownie. She pauses to stare at the brownie. “These are great. Salted caramel and banana?”

  Greta nods. “I love cooking for a chef. You always know what it is.”

  “No one cooks for me,” says Lizzy. “Everyone’s terrified. I don’t even remember the last time anyone invited me for dinner.”

  “That’s probably why my roast chicken tasted so good,” says Meredith.

  “No. Your roast chicken was that good, but everyone says they’re too intimidated to cook for me.” She looks at Greta. “I love that you’re confident in your baking skills. As you should be. And I love that these were waiting for us today. Thank you, Greta.”

  “Thank you,” echoes Meredith, noting that Nell bestows upon Greta a radiant smile, and when Greta sees it, she lights up in return, the two women holding each other’s gazes for a tad longer than Meredith would expect.

  “Can I get fresh eggs from the chickens?” Meredith says suddenly. “Lizzy, come with me?”

  Lizzy frowns at her, but gets up and follows her out the door, bringing Connor along to see the chickens. “What? Salted caramel banana brownies aren’t enough for you?” she says. “You need an omelette as well? Connor, this way; we can go and see the goats after.”

  “No,” Meredith whispers, looking back to check no one is following them, making sure Connor is a safe distance away so he won’t overhear and repeat anything she says. “Am I going completely crazy or is there something going on between Nell and Greta?”

  Lizzy stops and faces her. “What makes you say that?”

  “The way they just looked at each other. It was . . . I don’t know. I’ve never seen Nell look like that, and even though I don’t know Greta, it seemed the feeling was pretty mutual.”

  “So what are you asking?”

  “Do you think Nell is a lesbian?” breathes Meredith, eyes wide.

  “I have no idea what Nell is, and I’m quite certain she doesn’t either, but do I think she and Greta have the hots for each other. Yes. Okay, swear you won’t say anything, but I walked in on them this morning. In bed. You know.” She makes big eyes.

  “Having sex?” Meredith is openmouthed.

  “Yes! Well, they weren’t actually in flagrante delicto, but it’s pretty clear that’s where they were heading.”

  “Wow. This is a lot to process. I had no idea. Do you think Nell has always known?”

  Lizzy lets out a bark of laughter. “Nell, the most emotionally unevolved person on the planet? No. But I’m very happy she knows now. It’s sweet. It’s lovely that there’s someone around who makes her happy. Who knows whether it’s something that will last, but God knows right now we could all do with someone to support us.”

  “You’ve got James,” says Meredith, feeling a pang of loss at Derek leaving, followed by the relief, once again, that she never has to kiss him again.

  “It’s great that he has offered to stay up here with us through this,” says Lizzy. “But he wants to separate.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes. I deserve it. He knows about the affair.”

  “I thought the affair was over.”

  “It is.”

  “What about if you tried couples counseling?”

  “Done that. James won’t forgive me this time.”

  “You mean this isn’t the first time?”

  “It’s complicated.” Lizzy shakes her head and sighs. “He did say that if I moved out here he would move out too so we could coparent Connor.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  “Relieved. Sad. Shocked. Numb.” She looks at Meredith helplessly. “Mom is dead. My marriage is over. My business is fucked. Okay, not fucked, but changing. Everything is changing. I have no idea how to feel about anything.”

  “I know.” Meredith slips an arm around her sister’s waist. “I feel the same way.”

  By the time they get back to the kitchen with a dozen fresh eggs deposited in various pockets, Meredith has decided she will stay on in their mother’s house to help with the funeral arrangements, to be there with and for her sisters while they decide what to do with the house.

  “Do you think she had a will?” asks Lizzy.

  “Of course she had a will,” says Nell. “She always held it over our heads as punishment. Remember all the times she threatened to cut us out of it?”

  “She never said that to me,” says Lizzy innocently, and Meredith punches her in the arm.

  “She did,” Meredith says. “I heard her.”

  “Oh. Well, then I never believed her,” says Lizzy. “Do you think she actually did have a will? And if she did, do you think she left me that diamond and citrine pendant on that funky chain? Because if she didn’t, I’m just telling you now, that necklace is mine.” She looks at Nell. “You can have her Wellington boots.”

  “Thanks,” says Nell. “That’s very generous of you.”

  “My pleasure.” Lizzy turns to Meredith. “And you can have that painting of her in the l
iving room.”

  “You mean that garish nineteen-sixties thing that all of us have always laughed at?”

  “That would be the one.”

  “Great. Thanks. But I guess we’ll need to call her lawyer. I’ll do it. I don’t mind taking on that role.”

  “Also, can I have the vintage Mercedes? You can have the Lexus, Nell. And there’s a bike in the garage that has your name all over it, Meri.”

  “It will all be sorted out in the will,” says Meredith. “In the meantime, no, you can’t have the Mercedes or the necklace, or anything else, until we sit down and find out what she wanted. Even though”—she shoots Lizzy a look—“she probably did leave everything special to you.”

  “I was her favorite.” Lizzy grins.

  “No. We all were,” says Meredith, smiling back, before taking a deep breath as a wave of grief washes over her. “Fuck,” she breathes in a whisper. “She’s dead. I can’t believe she’s dead.”

  “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” says River, after a pause in which everyone wipes a tear from their eyes. “Seeing her. Greta was right, it didn’t seem like her. It really was as if her soul had departed.”

  “I’m still trying to get over the fact that she had ALS,” James says. “When I saw her last year she looked great. I wish I’d been a better son-in-law.”

  “We’re not going to do that now,” says Lizzy. “We’re not going to do that ever—regret what we didn’t do, didn’t say, could have done differently. God knows, there’s much she could have done differently as well. In the end, she went out the way she wanted to. We didn’t want to let her go, and she went anyway. I’m not going to allow myself to dwell in regret. And in the end”—she looks at her sisters—“wasn’t it good, at the end? She let you both go with love, and even though my ending wasn’t what I would have chosen, I know she was doing that out of love as well. What more could anyone ask?”

  Meredith and Nell both nod, Meredith swallowing a lump. “You’re right. I felt loved at the end. I do think she always loved us. She just didn’t know how to show it.”